A Bit of Magic
by Peppei
Summary: The life of a witch starts in a warm burrito. Hermione. Self insert. SI. OC.


Ok so I've been reading fanfic for a few years now and I've recently discovered SI/OC stories. I've decided to try my own hand at writing one. Enjoy!

Warning: Some cursing. Mentions of anxiety attacks.

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter.

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Chapter 1: Loss of the Warm Burrito

Warmth. That was the first thing I felt when I started to wake up. It was warm and comfortable. It was as if I was waking up from a nap and finding myself snuggly wrapped up in my soft bed sheets.

Like a burrito. Of warmth. I never wanted to leave. I moved deeper into the warmth and drifted back into sleep. Later, I would describe this feeling like that phase where you start to stir but part of you remained in that blissful state of sleep.

Soon I heard murmuring but I couldn't find it in myself to care as I stretched my legs out. I marveled at just how warm it was before curling up again. The murmuring soon turned to a something sweeter – someone, a female, was humming. The song was familiar to me and comforting. The soft voice reminded me of my mom who had died from breast cancer when I was nine. I strained my ears to try to grasp onto the humming, to maybe try to make some sense out of it, but soon I was asleep again.

I don't know how long I drifted in and out of sleep.

For some reason, I didn't find it strange that all I knew was darkness. But this darkness was _warm_. It was different from before. Before I woke up to this warmth, I was surrounded by the cold. I shivered thinking about it and quickly burrowed deeper into the warmth. So for the moment, I didn't mind. I wasn't afraid.

And it helped that when I did start to freak out, the comforting singing voice came back. It wasn't always the same song and I didn't always recognize the tune. But I eventually remembered what the familiar and comforting song was. It was one of the pieces by Debussy.

Classical music was always a favorite of mine. I loved listening to Yiruma, Isaac Shepard, and that guy who composed all those pieces for Spirited Away, Howl's Moving Castle, and such. What was his name again? Something Hisashi or something. Eh, no matter, I'm sure it'll come to me later.

I often played classical music when I needed to relax after a stressful day at school or to calm down when I had one of my anxiety attacks...but that is something I don't want to think about right now, or hopefully ever.

I was content in feeling safe in my little burrito, as I taken to calling the warmth around me. The soft voice I heard from time to time was never far away. Sometimes, I had to kick to get its attention though. The voice sounded kind and I started to wonder who it belonged to. I hoped that whoever it belonged to was as kind as the voice eluded to.

 _I wish I could know who the voice is_.

As soon as I thought that wish, I regretted it.

Why? Because the burrito started to squeeze me. The burrito that I once thought was warm and secure started to be a bit too secure and a bit too suffocating.

It was like one of those tight hugs that you get that is meant to comfort you but it turns into a hug that squeezes you so tightly that suddenly you can't breathe.

 _Oh no, it's happening again, isn't it? I will be suffocated and—no, no, NO, NO._

Of course, I started to freak out. It reminded me of my anxiety attacks and how I felt like walls were closing in and how I would start crying and struggle to breathe and – oh god, my anxiety attacks had nothing on this.

The walls were literally closing in on me and pushing me, choking me. I'm not going to let this happen to me again, it was so, so cold before and I couldn't _breathe._ I don't want to experience that again.

I started pushing back and kicking for the voice. Surely the voice will make it all better, right?! It had to. It made all my troubles go away before.

But the voice wasn't humming anything soothing. It actually sounded quite frantic and like it was even more scared that I was.

That didn't help at all. I kicked the walls and struggled to breathe. It was getting more and more difficult to move my arms.

 _No! Dammit, I need to breathe! Fight it! Fight it!_

I was about to give up when suddenly I was free. I could breathe again. But it was cold. But I didn't care. I was free and I could breathe! I started crying out of sheer relief.

Caught up in my relief induced sobfest, I wasn't aware of what was happening until I heard the voice again. This time it was much clearer, and it just as comforting as before.

I quieted my own wailing so I could hear the voice.

"—a daughter! Can you believe it, Matt?"

A deep male voice answered. "I can already tell she's a beauty. She'll have the most beautiful smile with us as parents, eh, Jean?"

The voice—Jean— laughed. It was a nice laugh.

An unknown voice asked, "Have you decided on a name?"

"Yes, this little bundle is our Hermione," answered Jean.

At this point, I had quieted my sobs to meek hiccups and I had never been so confused.

 _Hermione? Okay, focus. What do you know and what do you need to find out?_

First, I tested my arms and legs. It was hard to move them, like I didn't have full mobility yet. The most I could do were wave my hands a bit and weakly kick my legs.

Okay, so I knew I couldn't really move around.

 _So let's go over some other facts._

I knew the voice was a woman named Jean.

I knew that it was no longer warm, but it wasn't cold anymore either.

I wasn't in the burrito anymore that's for sure.

I tried opening my eyes. They couldn't open more than a tiny sliver. It was bright. I could make out a big blob of brown in all the white. The blob, I think, looked at me.

"Oh, Matt, isn't she just precious?" It was the voice— _Jean_ , I recalled. _This brown blob is called Jean_. My view was then moved towards another brown blob, a bit smaller than the first blob.

"She's so tiny. I'm scared I'll drop her." _Ah, so this smaller brown blob is Matt._

"You'll be fine, just support her head…there you go," said Jean.

Matt then started baby talking and cooing as I stared at him, or the blob, as much as I could through the slits.

I stared and stared and stared. And then suddenly, it hit me. They were talking about _me_. It was me who they called precious and tiny and Hermione— _their daughter_.

 _Okay, obviously I've been reborn._

 _I guess reincarnation and karma and all that jazz is real. At least I am a girl again. My name this time is Hermione. Jean and Matt, my parents, are probably a part of the Harry Potter generation like I am._

 _Er,_ _was_ _part of it, I mean. Before it was so, so cold-think of the burrito, it was warm, remember the warmth-_

Matt started swaying and it felt warm and safe again.

 _I guess they named their kid after the main female heroine._

I began to feel tired and closed my eyes. I heard the voice—Jean—start humming again.

 _Whoever is in charge of this reincarnation business must've fucked up because I can still remember my past life. Oh well, somehow I've been granted a second life where I can remember my last one._

 _Maybe this time will be better._

And with that thought, I drifted off to sleep.

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Please review! Please let me know if there are any typos or any parts that are confusing. Flames are also accepted. Thanks :)


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